Don’t
by Darveymylove
Summary: There’s been a lot of tension between Harvey and Donna ever since the arrival of Faye, giving their new relationship a rocky start. But when the unimaginable happens, it makes all the rest seem small...
1. Don’t

**Hi guys! I've been debating for a while whether to post this fic at all, the idea has been sitting in my head since this time last year, following the Louis-mugged storyline when I thought how interesting it could have been had it been Darvey that we're at the center and this story sat, half-written in my files for about 5 months. I wouldn't have finished or even posted had it not been for (the other) Jess (@woahrafferty/takeyourside) convincing me, along with the kind words of a few others who read my stories!**

**That being said, I hope you like what I've written in the end :)**

***Trigger Warning: violence/assault. It's fairly angsty and intense so if that's not for you than neither is this story!**

**———**

It's been a long day.

Hell, it's been a long week.

Donna had been the latest of Faye Richardson's victims, the vulture of a woman choosing to pick them apart one by one. Setting her sights on a single member of the team which she viewed as the worst of the offenders and lure out their vulnerabilities until they were all at their weakest, an easy target to take out.

She had been particularly cruel with the COO.

Her digging went beyond professional, pulling from her personal life, past and present, and creating a character profile for the red head which even she knew to be untrue. However, the constant accusations and the watchful eye that Richardson had been keeping over every damn move she made had put Donna under a considerable amount of pressure. Suddenly doubting her own capability and qualification in her career.

The non-stop jibes about her and Harvey's now official relationship had also gotten in on her. And she couldn't help but resent the fact that he never took any of the heat for their "unprofessional relationship." It was always Donna on the receiving end of crude remarks, always Donna's character that got dragged through the mud. All Harvey received was the odd raised eye brow and even sometimes a look of approval from their fellow colleagues.

Whereas she was beginning to feel like the inscription on her door read "_Harvey Specter's Girlfriend_" and not _COO_.

And though Faye had had to leave the firm for at least a week, (and with a bit of luck possibly longer) to deal with a more urgent situation across town. Her presence still looms threateningly over Donna, afraid to put a toe out of line and give her any more fuel to make her life miserable.

She gave a heavy sigh, glancing at the time, her eyes already feeling like they could fall out of her head at the early hour of 8pm. Gathering up a couple of folders, she shuffled out of her office and in the direction of Harvey's, almost wishing he'd insist they go home, although she knows she'd refuse the offer.

Donna doesn't bother knocking as she enters his space, his gaze lifting from his desk to try and catch hers but she keeps her eyes low, planting the documents on his workspace, and mumbling, "I need these signed."

"No problem," he smiles, he knows all she's been through with Faye, guilt hanging heavy on his shoulders, aware that most of the heat she receives comes as a result of their current and past relationship, "you look like you need a drink."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she bites, and there's no humor in her tone like there usually would be.

He grimaces and rises from his chair, rounding the desk and leaning on the edge as he takes her in, "Just that you've had a stressful week and I think you deserve a break."

"Yeah, well I don't have the luxury of doing whatever I want."

He's slightly taken aback by her remark but shakes it off nonetheless, remembering how patient she was with him during his hell-week with Faye.

Reaching forward his hand lands on her shoulder, and he stands to come level with her, she catches his eye for the first time that night and he sees moisture gathering in the corners.

"Hey, don't do this to yourself –"

She runs a hand through her hair and shakes her head in frustration, knowing deep down he's only trying to help and that her anger is misplaced.

His lips are on hers before she has the chance to respond and for a moment it feels so good, she wants lose herself in that feeling, the only cure to her heartache but also just as much the cause.

She pulls back, "Harvey, stop."

"Faye isn't here for the next week, we're safe." Presuming that to be the cause of her protest, his hand goes to her cheek, coaxing her back to him as his mouth finds her jawline in a gentle caress.

Donna pushes back, "I said stop." She hisses more urgently and he freezes, dropping his hand to hers, but she doesn't return the hold.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" he trails off, she won't look at him and it's driving him insane.

She tries to walk away but he keeps his hold, gentle but firm.

"Look at me." He prompts, but she doesn't.

"Harvey let me go." She breathes.

He knows he should leave it, but years of letting her walk away in moments like this have his mind screaming at him to do something, "Come on, let's go home, you need –"

"Don't tell me what I need!" she snaps, jerking her hand away.

They stare at each other for a moment, a wall of tension building before them, both having the power to stop it but neither making the move.

"I'm going home." She turns on her heel, the word sting on her tongue because they both know she doesn't mean to his place, the place that has become her home.

"Don-"

"Just sign the goddamn documents." She snaps, and swings the door closed behind her.

XXX

She heads out into the night air of New York with a toxic cocktail of anger, guilt and hurt swirling in her stomach. Deep down, she knows the way she treated him was wrong, blinded by the stress of the past week and the jealousy of the exemption to scandal he seems to have as the man. Nevertheless, she knows he trade places with her in a heartbeat if it saved her the strain.

She needs a drink.

Donna doesn't call a cab, slinging her purse over her shoulder and folding her arms across her chest in a guarded manner. She takes a turn to the left, wanting to stray from the usual, and not caring where she ended up, just as long as they had wine, and the reassurance that no one would find her.

The need to disappear for a couple of hours and just blow off some steam was over whelming.

Reluctantly she fishes her phone from her pocket, already two missed calls from Harvey.

She strides forward, not looking where she's going as her thumb hovers over the call button, his smiling face staring back at her from her screensaver makes her heart twist with hurt. And suddenly all she wants his him.

She's about to hit call when out of nowhere a rough grip to the scruff of her coat stops her in her tracks, dragging her backwards with a sharp tug, the collar of her coat and dress tightening around her throat harshly and choking her monetarily. She digs her heels in on instinct but before she can get her bearings she's flung to the ground.

The redhead lands hard on her bare knees, she wheezes in a breath, her throat sore from the impact of the pull. The grazing of her palms and legs beginning to burn, they're on some side alley, judging by the narrow space and trash cans in the vicinity.

Donna chances a glance over her shoulder, a figure in all black moving behind her before a voice breaks the silence.

"Get up."

But she can't register the command, her mind still catching up with what just happened and before she can even try to obey she feels a hand fisting at the back of her head, pulling her roughly to her feet and slamming her against the wall, her front pressed to the cold stone. She shrieks, finally finding her voice, a cry for help on the tip of her tongue before a cool metal presses into her shoulder, his grip going to her wrist instead of her hair and pulling her arm behind her in a vice like hold.

"I dare you to make one more sound." He grumbles against her, his breath hot and repulsive.

She can't help the terrified whimper that slips without her permission and suddenly he's flipping her around so that they're face to face.

"You're a pretty thing aren't you." His mouth to close to hers as it trails from her jaw to her neck, a move she'd rejected from Harvey earlier that evening, now wishing she hadn't, wanting nothing more than to be back there, safe, with him.

He releases the hold on her wrist and drags the hand up her thigh and under her skirt instead, groping roughly.

She bites back a yelp of pain at the ministrations of his mouth on her neck, too petrified by the press of the gun at her side to struggle, although her body screams at her to fight back. Her insides begin to burn in terror at where exactly this is leading and how exactly she's meant to escape it.

Thankfully, voices carry from the neighboring street and the sound seems to startle him, pulling back momentarily to survey the surroundings.

She takes the chance, bringing up her elbow and sharply clocking him on the chin, followed by another blow to the stomach. He doubles over and she attempts to flee, scrambling in her heels, until she feels a grip on her ankle.

Donna falls flat on her face, her skin grazing under the gravel and God knows what else on the alleyway floor, a blinding pain in her left arm almost knocking her clean out.

She tries to get to her feet unsuccessfully as he lands a kick to her stomach, winding her completely, a strained scream pushed from her lungs.

She just about hears him demand she hand over her phone and purse. With shaky hands she takes the strap of her handbag from her shoulder, fumbling for her phone which she'd managed to return to her pocket in the first throws of the attack.

He snatches them up, and she remains on the ground, too terrified of the consequences should she move.

Cautiously, she turns her head to the side to watch him as he riffles through her purse, glancing at the lock screen of her phone.

"Who's Harvey?" Donna think's she hears him sneer and she catches sight of her phone screen, lit up with his name, no doubt calling for the hundredth time. It makes her heart burn.

She's pulled to her knees with no warning, he says something about having any other cash on her to which she shakes her head, choking back a violent sob.

There's a piercing pain stemming from the side of her temple and then it all goes dark.

XXX

She blinks.

It takes all the energy she has.

It's still dark.

She's freezing.

Suddenly aware that her coat is gone.

A light spitting of rain falling from the night's sky.

Her eyes open fully.

She's not sure how long she's been lying here for, sprawled out on her stomach the way he left her.

The absence of her coat makes her stomach lurch and for a moment she thinks the worst, before realising that the rest of her clothes are still intact. However, the possibility of what could have been rocks her to her core.

She whines as she shifts to her side, her head throbbing and so many other parts of her body crying out in pain that she's not sure which to give attention to.

Her left arm feels limp, even the smallest of movements causing pain.

Tears start to fall though she knows this isn't the time, she needs to get out of here and with great effort she wobbles to her feet.

No idea of the time or even of her whereabouts she wanders back towards the main street. Thankfully recognizing her surroundings and beginning a slow pace back towards the firm, the only place that feels safe now.

The street is quiet and even those who do see her pretend they don't. Shame burns in her cheeks as she wonders how she must look, what others must think of her, and it's all she can contemplate until she reaches the doorstep of their building.

The security desk is empty and it makes her blood boil, what the hell are they getting paid for if they're never at their goddamn post. She leans against the desk and slips off her heels, suddenly becoming too much of a task to walk in as she pushes off in the direction of the elevator.

She's just going through the motions to get to a safe space, not yet allowing her mind to spiral in frenzy of what just happened. A numbness in her brain and body that frightens her but leaves her somewhat thankful, it's only delaying the inevitable crash landing but she allows it to lull her into a false sense of security that everything is okay.

Nothing's changed.

She's got a one-track mind as the elevator rises her to the fiftieth floor.

Harvey.

Why did she pick a fight with him?

Why didn't she stay with him?

Why did she push him away?

Is this what she gets? Some sort of twisted karma for treating him in a way that she knows he didn't deserve. Worse still she knows he isn't even mad at her, their argument was completely one sided.

As the numbers climb higher she begins to lose all composure. What ifs? And Maybes battering her from the inside out.

She could have died. She could have left him behind thinking that she didn't want him anymore, that she blamed him, and she hates herself for it.

Even in the depths of a crisis her concern is directed at him and not herself.

An echo of the elevator ding reaches her ears, and she drags herself off the floor, not sure she even remembers sitting down.

Her body is damp, cold and she's not certain if it's sweat or rain water, her hair matted and curling at the ends. Every breath feels like a chore and she wonders how she survives this.

How she ever feels safe again when even inside the confines of her second home, her heart races and her lungs fail her.

The numbness is fading, the pain in her body unbearable, from the ache in her arm, and the stabbing between her ribs, right down to the tiny grazes on knees and face, grime and shards of gravel still stuck there.

She reaches her office the wall clock reading something around 12am but her vision is unclear. She knows she should reach straight for the phone, call Harvey, call anyone for help. But she just about manages to collapse onto the sofa, a drowsiness laid deep in her bones though her mind is wide awake and turning at a pace she can't keep up with. Reliving flashes of assault as her injuries seem to light up and burn more fervently at the memory of each unwanted touch.

XXX

Harvey had lost track of the number of calls he'd placed to Donna over the past few hours. Hitting her name on loop, with pleading text messages sandwiched between. He'd gone to her place first, presuming it would be her first port of call despite the fact that she hadn't spent a night there in over a month.

When his knocking met no answer, he used his key, finding her apartment lifeless and untouched.

Part of him felt relieved in that moment, coming to the conclusion that she really did go back to his place, their place. But yet again when he arrived at the penthouse, he found no trace of her.

His nerves hit peak, as he rang multiple different venues he thought she might have landed in, her favorite bars, a friend of hers house, even placing a call to Samantha and Louis, though neither had seen her since earlier that day.

He waits it out until around 11:30pm, still calling but receiving no answer. Pacing the length of their home and growing more agitated as the minutes tick past. He can't bear the waiting any longer, a strange combination of anger and concern boiling to the surface as he grabs the keys to one of his own cars and heads out the door, not sure exactly where he's going.

His subconscious takes the wheel and Harvey finds himself in the firm's under ground parking lot. Absentmindedly he wanders to the elevator, almost certain he won't find her here, and why would he?

They're meant to feel closer now that they're together, so why, lately, does it feel like she's turned from crystal clear glass in his embrace, to grains of sand slipping through his fingers, always on the move?

Before he can step inside a voice calls from behind, "Harvey!" He turns to catch sight Louis, rushing toward him, looking incredibly flustered, red in the face, "I couldn't sit still after you called, I thought I'd come back and check up to see if she was still here, you haven't been able to reach her yet."

"No," the admission sits low in his chest, worry and accompanied by a rising sense of anger building in his mind, it seems so selfish, disappearing like this and leaving him without a trace or so much as a text message, and while he knows it may be irrational, something could have happened, and as long as that's a possibility, he can't rest.

"You check our floor, I'll go one down, in case she's there." Louis says as they step into the elevator, and all he can manage in response is a quick nod.

XXX Her eyes crack open and she's staring at a familiar ceiling, it takes a moment for the pain to register but when it does it's merciless. She moans out her agony, the worst of which residing in her arm and ribs, trying to find the will to stand, to reach for the phone, but all she can do is lay motionless, trapped in her skin.

Panic creeps in on her, the notion that she'll be stuck here, alone, until the morning, until someone finds her. A sob claws at her chest and the movement hurts her ribs but she can't stop them coming. Like fear and pain battling for dominance, and she loses either way.

Suddenly the distant call of the elevator rings out through the silence of the firm. She can't see who it is but she doesn't care, she'd accept aid from anyone right now, even Faye Richardson herself.

With a heaving breath, she croaks, "Hello?"

The vibration of the sound in her head makes her temple throb harder but she tries again, "Help, please," she whimpers, attempting to lift her head off the cushioned furniture and catch whoever it is but her view is obscured.

She hears the door swing open swiftly and sniffles a cry of relief, letting her eyes squeeze shut as footsteps approach her.

"Donna what the hell are you still doing here, I've been going out of my mind-"

The sound of his voice catches her off guard but she recoils at the tone of rage, the booming yell triggering a harsh pounding in her head. But as he gets closer, and the relief of finding her sobers him, he notices there's something wrong, sees the marks on her skin, the defeated way she's sprawled out on the couch. When she can't find the words to respond, his frustration and worry take the reigns.

A touch to her shoulder startles her more than she could have expected herself and she yelps despite herself, recoiling from it. Suddenly realizing that she doesn't want to be touched, yet craves that comfort all the same.

The response frightens him, retracting his hand to hover above her, trying to some how make sense of the situation.

"Don, what happened?" He asks, voice dropping to barely above a whisper, he can feel the breath catching in his chest as panic takes hold.

"Mugged-" is all she can manage, before more cries of relief and shame wash over her.

"Shh, you're alright now," he attempts to soothe, hands hovering over her body not sure what to do, a slight tremble visible in his limbs, fury at whoever did this to her radiating off his body "Can you tell me where you're hurt?" He tries to keep his voice level, not portray the turmoil he feels inside, to stay calm for the sake of helping her.

She wants to scream 'everywhere' but knows she needs to be reasonable, rasping instead, "Head, ribs, left arm."

He nods but she catches his eyes wandering over her face neck and chest, surely concerned for the marks left there.

"Harvey- my purse - he took it - my phone, ID," suddenly her eyes snap wide, as she gasps, "there were files, important ones. I couldn't stop him -"

He tries to shush her but her breathing continues to accelerate, "Donna, don't worry about -"

Her voice had risen another octave when she spoke again, "He has my address, m-my name, where w-we work all of my information, what if-"

"Donna stop!" He's firm with the command, and she bites her bottom lip to stop it shaking, "just put that out of your mind for the moment, okay? Trust me, it's going to be okay."

She takes a shaky intake of air, stifling a sob, his hand going to brush her hair and she finds herself leaning into the warmth of his skin this time, no longer afraid of the contact.

"I'm going to take you to the hospital," he explains, hesitating to touch her after her last reaction, "is it ok if I lift you, you don't look fit to walk?"

"I don't need -" she sits forward with great effort, a strained groan escaping her throat without her permission, "I'll be fine just take me home please."

He shakes his head at her stubbornness, "no, you're hurt and I'm not taking any chances, Louis is downstairs, he can call his friends at the station, get them to take your statement."

She seems panicked at the idea, "Statement - I - Harvey I don't wa-"

"Donna, you know as well as I do that you have to do this."

"You'll stay with me?"

"I promise." He trails a hand down her back comfortingly, "now, will you please let me carry you?"

Donna nods and braces her body, letting his hands slip under her back and legs, failing to disguise a slight flinch.

"You okay?" He asks as they make their way towards the elevator, her body curled into his.

No.

The truth doesn't make it far enough, a short nod her only answer, before her eyes are screwing shut and her head is buried in his chest, the soft cotton of his shirt.

The elevator takes an age to arrive, and he watches her closely as she begins to relax slowly, less tension in her body, her breathing slowly but surely evening. It's a relief to him, not quite sure how much longer he could have kept himself together watching her that way, although he knows there's likely more to come.

As he steps them forward into the carriage, he hears her mumble "Let me down, I can manage."

"I'd really prefer-" he tries.

He doesn't get a chance to express his concern before she's slipping out of his hold and onto unsteady feet, and while she tries to hide it he catches the grimace on her face, and the way her legs wobble.

He reaches out a hand to steady her and pleads "Donna-"

"Don't -" she snaps, withdrawing from his reach, just about and the harshness of her tone leaves him taken aback, "leave me be."

"I just -"

"Please just don't touch me for a minute I need -" but she doesn't finish her sentence, puffing out a short gust of breath, her jaw quivering and her eyes shut.

He shakes his head, perplexed, she's done a complete one-eighty on him in the last five minutes, how did she go from 'stay with me' to 'don't touch me' in such a short space of time.

His face softens when a second wave empathy strikes him, a deeper realization of what she's been through, combined with what he knows about her own strong will, pointing towards the fact that this isn't an unusual response to a difficult situation or trauma.

He resigns to it for the moment, giving her some space while remaining close all the while, watching as she leans defeatedly on the metal hand bar with her right arm, her left still tucked timidly against her stomach.

The elevator comes to a halt earlier than expected on the 48th floor, but he's unsurprised to see Louis Litt on the other side, his round face glancing between the pair, crumpling at the sight of a disheveled and hurt Donna.

"Jesus what happened?" He asks stepping forward into the carriage his face turning that flustered shade of red.

"Donna was mugged." The words almost catch in his throat but he manages them nonetheless, watching as she keeps her head bowed, avoiding his line of sight.

"Oh my god," his tone becoming hushed, sympathetic as he takes a step closer, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder, and Harvey feels an inordinate amount of jealousy at the fact that she doesn't reject it, but instead leans in, allowing Louis Litt of all people to engulf her in a gentle hug, careful not to hold to tightly, "you're safe now, I know what you're going through."

She sniffles quietly into his shoulder as Harvey bristles, jaw clenching in an envy that he wishes he could swallow, wishing he knew what to say and do, the way Louis does, but he can't help but think, why give in to him and not me.

They arrive in the car park and Harvey expresses his plans to take her to the hospital, and his hopes that she may be able to give her statement there. Louis offering straight off the bat to contact his connections in the NYPD to take her statement and handle her case. Donna remaining uncharacteristically quiet throughout the exchange, and withdrawing to the passenger seat of the car before the conversation had even come to a close.

XXX

They leave the hospital in the early hours of the morning after what feels like an eternity, most of which Harvey had spent exiled outside closed doors or behind drawn curtains. Donna having completely closed in on herself, leaving him completely in the dark as to the details of what happened, but judging from her injuries, he's not totally sure he could handle them.

A fractured left wrist, bruised ribs and a concussion, and that's excluding the lacerations to her legs and face, caused by what Harvey would suspect to be a fall.

Their drive to his penthouse passes in a haze of uncomfortable silence, Donna keeping her head turned to the window of the passenger seat, staring blankly as the city unfolds in a blur of light. He finds himself gripping the steering wheel hard, as though if he squeezed with enough power, it may release the tension between them, as if the information she's with held from him was stored within its leather confines.

A harsh sigh from her breaks the silence and pulls him back to reality, glancing over to her in intervals as she seems to attempt to melt back into the chair, "You okay?"

No, I'm not.

Just three little words, so simple to say yet so hard to admit, and she finds herself lying once again.

"Fine." She grumbles and when she feels his hand land on hers as it rest in her lap, she forgets herself for a moment, soaking up the touch before she's shifting in her chair and moving her hand out of reach.

"Donna, it's normal to feel scared and upset after something like - " he lets the end of his sentiment hang but she's jumping in with out hesitation.

"Don't tell me how I should or shouldn't feel, you don't know." She bites, and he huffs out a sigh.

"Then help me to," he replies and it's gentle, no frustration or impatience conveyed there despite how he may truly feel, "I can't help if you won't let me."

His words echo in the thickness of silence, and though she doesn't respond, she feels her self soften slightly at the request, suddenly overwhelmed by an insurmountable level of guilt. For their fight earlier that evening, for how she'd spoken to him, for shutting him out at the hospital and for making him feel like she doesn't want him near her.

The thoughts turn in her head at a sickening rate as they park, he gives her her space as they head through the lobby and towards the elevator bank, and as the stand in wait of a the metal carriage, she finds herself reaching a hand out to take his, feeling a jolt of guilt as he hesitates, reading her body language before accepting the gesture and linking his fingers in hers.

He reluctantly drops her hand to unlock the front door, giving it a small squeeze before doing so and holding the door open for her to enter first. They walk to the kitchen and living area side by side, Donna slowing behind him and coming to lean against the counter as she slips out of her shoes, her mind still whirring with a tumultuous amount of pain and guilt. She can feel his eyes on her, studying her, trying to assess how to handle her and she hates it.

This isn't them. For years she helped him learn the value of expressing your feelings to those who care about you, of asking for help, and now here she is, throwing it all back in his face.

"What do you need?" He asks catching her by surprise, doe eyed as she looks up at him from across the room, "something to eat? A bath maybe, or do you just want to sleep?" He's kind in his offers and her heart swells painfully.

When she doesn't reply tilts his head, watching as she grips the counter with her right hand as though for dear life, he can see her shoulders trembling slightly from across the kitchen, "Are you okay?" It seems like a stupid question, but at this point he's not sure what else to say.

"No." She breathes out the admission, suddenly feeling a significant weight off her chest.

Something breaks inside her at the look on his face, a figurative dam seems to shatter and she's crumbling along with it. It's always been her way to be strong, her instinct telling her to push what hurts aside, 'if you can't see it, it can't hurt you', but it's nothing but a lie. A false reassurance that's left her to fend for herself in difficult situations but not this time. She can't hide from him, and what really surprises her, is that she doesn't want to.

"I'm so sorry," she finds herself crying, forcing herself to look him in the eye as she does, and his face drops at the outburst, his feet carrying him towards her, "I'm sorry for the way I treated you tonight, I - I feel so terrible, about the way I spoke to you and pushed you away, it was selfish and all I could think about was how - how I wish I hadn't left, none of this would have happened and -"

"Hey, shh, that's enough," he soothes, rushing forward to her, he wants to hold her but need her to give him the cue, and before he knows it, she's burying her face in his chest and he wraps her arms around her waist, "you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, none of this is your fault."

"I was scared I was going to die, I thought he was going to- he -" she stumbles over her words, to voice it makes it real, it puts an end to the denial.

"Listen to me," he begins, "I want you to talk to me, so that I can help but if you're not ready and you don't want to talk about it yet, that's okay."

"I don't want to talk about it, but I need to." She sniffles.

"Then I'm here, no judgement." He strokes the back of her head smoothing her hair down.

"I love you so much." Her voice more even now, stronger.

"I love you too, so much."

They get ready for bed first, after she refuses his offer of something to eat, curling up in one of his old sweaters and slipping under the sheets next to him, still talking things over, an hour later.

"He had me up against the wall, and he was just touching me - everywhere, I thought he was going to - it felt like - I don't want to say it out loud." She admits but he nods his understanding at the words left unsaid, clenching his fist beneath the duvet as a small way to channel his rage at her attacker.

"I hit him, in the face and the stomach and tried to get away but he caught me, knocked me down, that's when he took my purse and phone. Then I think he must have hit me over the head because I felt pain here and it all went dark." She raises a shaky hand to the small cut at her hairline, releasing a heavy breath as she comes to the end of her story.

He doesn't say anything at first, just pulls her closer, a kiss to her cheek as they snuggle further into the pillows at their backs, but his silence sits uneasily with her and she shifts slightly in his hold, hoping he gets the message.

"I'm so goddamn angry," he mumbles, and she's sure she can feel the tension radiating from his chest, "why did it have to be you."

"I don't know," she replies, it's a question that's played on her mind over the past few hours, but she can't seem to find an answer.

She sighs sadly and he senses there's something else, another worry hanging over her.

"You still feel scared?" He prompts, trying to get to the root of the problem, stroking a comforting pattern up and down the length of her arm.

"Honestly, yes, but not in the way you'd expect," he frowns to show his lack of understanding, so she elaborates, "It's work, I just don't want anyone finding out, I'm already under so much heat at the moment, I'm not sure I can handle the added scandal - and I lost those files, they had privilege information - how do you think Faye's going to like that."

"Slow down," he encourages, "you don't need to be thinking about any of that right now, okay? One step at a time. Work can wait until the morning, and even then I'll handle this, you're taking at least two days off, more if I can manage to keep you away."

"Doctors orders?" She grimaces.

"No, Harvey's orders." And he's met with a roll of her eyes.

"Just trust me to handle this okay, all that matters now, is that you take some time, recover and rest."

"Okay." She finds herself relenting, not because she really wants to, but because deep down she knows he's right.

"I'm here, every step of the way." He assures.

"Every step." She repeats.

"Always."

**——**

**A/N: Phewwww I know this story isn't everyone's cup of tea I just had to get it out of my head! **

**I've contemplated writing a part 2, aftermath to this, but wanted to see the reaction first! So please let me know what you thought and if that's something you'd like :)**

**Much love!! X**


	2. Part 2

**Trigger warning: this deals with the aftermath of the assault and could still be potentially triggering so read with caution!! **

————

In the days that follow the ordeal she succumbs to a strange sense of emptiness. Expecting to feel scared, angry, hurt, but instead she's left with nothing. A hollow numbness in her body that makes her restless. Her memory of the events of that night is dismembered and while she knows what happened, her mind's eye can't seem to put a picture to the words. A blankness she feels she should be thankful for, yet drives her to distraction nonetheless.

Donna had expected to be haunted by his face, the blow by blow images of the attack, but they've disappeared, leaving her with nothing but a knowledge of what happened, but no proof in her own mind. However, small snapshots seem to taunt her, appearing at random moments before dissolving into her memory and rendering her confused and confounded by a roaring anxiety, putting her on edge and distorting reality.

She finds herself, the fourth morning since, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, as she'd done each morning since waking with this void in her brain. Staring at her reflection, the evidence of the assault clear as day and imprinted on her skin, but the memory isn't there.

"He hit me, he pushed me, he held my wrist, he-" she stumbles, muttering what she knows to be true to herself, as though saying it aloud may help her picture it - not entirely sure why she wants to see it, a strange yearning to remember consuming her and growing stronger with each passing day.

Shaking her head, she relents, failing yet again to retrieve what she'd lost and wrapping her robe around her body, concealing it from Harvey as she timidly opens the bathroom door. She'd decided to return to work today, Harvey having convinced her to take off one more day than originally planned. He couldn't see that she craved the distraction, that roaming the empty condo all day only put her on edge, it didn't really feel like rest - and therefore, almost left her more mentally exhausted by the time he returned home each evening- baffled to find her in a worse state than he left her that morning.

They had drawn up a cover story without difficulty, seeing as the only injury which was impossible to conceal was her fractured wrist, the rest easily covered by clothes, and concealer for the blemishes on her face. Harvey letting the word spread that Donna had slipped in the rain and taken a fall on her way out of the firm that night, hurting her wrist and prompting a few day's rest. The story had gone down without an ounce of doubt, except perhaps from Samantha who eyed Harvey and Louis curiously as they stumbled over the lie under the scrutinizing eyes of their somewhat intimidating colleague and friend.

Donna exits the bathroom, her robe wrapped defensively around her but she finds the bedroom empty, breathing out harshly as she reaches for the dress laid out on their bed. She drops the robe and hurries to step into her dress, struggling slightly as the bandage on her left hand hinders her co-ordination.

She doesn't hear him approach from behind, spotting her struggle and moving to help. His knuckles brush down the exposed skin of her back and an involuntary shriek escapes her, the sudden flash of the grey wall she'd been pushed against clouding her vision, the feeling of his cold hand mimicking that of the cool steel of the gun.

She jerks away from him, crossing her arms across her chest protectively as she heaves in every wisp of air she can manage, her chest suddenly feeling as compressed as it had, against that wall. Composing herself she turns to see Harvey gaping slightly, his hands still raised and a bewildered look on his face. Her features soften as she reaches for the robe, quickly throwing it across her front, in a poor attempt to hide the marks he's already seen.

"Sorry, you just gave me a fright." She mumbles, holding her breath for a moment to steady the gasping nature of each intake.

"I didn't mean – why are you -?" he gestures to where she's holding the makeshift curtain over her upper body, brows creased.

She stumbles over her words as she grapples for a reasonable excuse, not wanting to admit her own shame, part of her knowing deep down that there's no real need for it, "I – I'm just –"

"Donna," he sighs with a shake of his head, taking a tentative step towards her, his eyes locked on hers, a feeling that could only be described as hypnotic washing over her as she loosens her hold on the material, letting it fall slightly as he comes closer, "you don't need to hide from me, okay?" He's done it again, read her mind, a new talent he'd seemed to have picked up over the course of their still new relationship, as though he had learned the knack from her. After years of watching him struggle to understand his own emotions, never mind hers, the change had come as a shock at first but she'd slowly grown accustomed to it. Yet, every time he did it, it threw her off balance.

"I know, I'm sorry." the apology reminds her of a conversation they'd shared after Faye had tried to take away her vote, how she'd promised to try and be more open with him, share her problems so that he could carry them with her, lighten the load.

"Will you let me help?" he tilts his head, referring to her dress, his eyes wide and soft with sympathy.

She doesn't say anything, instead, letting the robe drop to the floor, in a gesture that tells him it's okay.

He closes the gap and gently hooks his thumbs into the material where it's bunched at her hips, his eyes trailing up the extent of her front, the angry bruising on her ribs, the grazes on her chest, until finally he reaches her face. He finds her eyes cast up to the ceiling, as though afraid, either of the marks on her skin or the look on his face.

"Hey, look at me," he prompts smoothly, pulling the sleeves over her shoulders and resting each hand there. She gives a shake of her head, so slight it could easily have been missed, watching as she bites the inside of her cheek, "Donna, look at me."

His hand goes to the side of her face, brushing gently as though asking for permission to touch, but he finds it as she leans her cheek into his hand, eyes closing and brows furrowing. Standing this close he can see the blemishes beneath the abnormally heavy layer of make-up she'd applied to disguise them.

"I can't –" she mumbles, eyes cracking open as she tries to open up about what's been weighing on her the past few days, she promised him she'd try, that night, before the phone call with Lily, so try she will.

"You can't what?" he presses, his thumb tracing circles on her cheek.

"I can't remember – well I can – it's just –" she stammers, tripping over her words as she tries to explain.

"Slow down, tell me what's wrong, what can't you remember?"

"It's so strange, I know what happened, I can tell the story, but it's like the memories are gone, I can't see it, I can't picture it or h-him, I feel like I'm losing my mind." She explains.

Harvey frowns, slightly confused yet trying his best to remain supportive, "Isn't that a good thing?" The nightmares she'd been having at least once or twice each night over the past few days would testify to the contrary, her admission catching him off guard – although she always woke with a lost look on her face, confused as to where she was and why she felt so frightened.

"Not really – I mean, it seems like it should be," she turns to let him zip up her dress, holding her hair to the side, "but it's just making it harder to come to terms with it, it's like I can't seem to find any sort of closure, when I can't confront it head on."

He nods, her frustration making sense now, "Maybe we should give the doctor a call and chat to her about it, put your mind at ease?" he suggests.

"Yeah, I guess that might help." She concedes, giving him a weak smile as she leans down, slipping into her heels and walking around him, heading to the dresser to collect her purse.

He watches her for a moment before speaking again, "You sure you're ready to go back today, you're definitely feeling up to it?" he asks, knowing he's treading on dangerous territory, they'd argued more than once over this particular topic since that night.

"Yes, I told you, I need to get back to normal, take my mind off what happened." She reiterates her reasons for wishing to return so soon, throwing her shoulders back as she turns back around to face him, trying to radiate that trade mark brand of fiery confidence she's known for, when on the inside she feels anything but.

"Okay, well if you're sure," Harvey smiles encouragingly, moving towards her and taking her hand as they head for the front door, "Just promise me, that if you start to feel down, or anxious – or you need anything – even just a coffee, or a hug - that you will come straight to me." He says giving her hand a squeeze.

Her heart flutters at his compassion and while she knows she'll be determined not to take him up on that offer, she appreciates the sentiment, "I promise."

The day drags on, Donna trying to ignore a sneaking sense of paranoia that everyone knows the truth. That every glance in her direction is meant to mock, that every whispered conversation on the corridor or in the file room concerns her. When in fact, apart from the odd turned head at her bandaged wrist, barely anyone gives a damn.

Around 5pm, the COO decides to reward herself with a break, having found herself buried under a mountain of work upon her return from sick leave. She didn't mind though, with Faye still away from the firm for another few days she could work in peace, and the usually obscene workload provided just the distraction she was looking for.

She makes her way to the executive kitchen feeling a certain sense of lightness in her step that had been absent for some time now, not just as a result of the mugging – Faye had been terrorising her for what felt like an age. Without the Special Master looming large, she felt like her old self, no self-doubt.

That was until she turned the corner into the marble room, her eyes landing on a short blonde hair cut, unmistakable even from the back, clad in her signature turtleneck style jumper, with a cardigan over top.

"Faye?" she breathes out in disbelief, trying to mask her disappointment with a wide-eyed smile, one that had been previously preserved for the likes of Paula Agard.

"Donna, I wasn't sure you'd be back today," Faye says in that smooth condescending tone, her gaze scanning over the other woman's body with a surprised expression, as though she doubted that Donna had had any cause to take leave at all, "How are you? I hear you took quite a fall."

For a moment she falters, her brain taking a second to catch up with their lie – a cover story she'd insisted on – but faced with telling it, her body tensed as all her mind was flooded with was the truth of what happened.

_You're a Goddamn actress, get a grip._

"Yes, well it turns out five inch stilettos don't go well heavy New York rain," she gives a nervous chuckle, suddenly every injury down to the smallest graze seems to buzz, as though punishing her for the mistruth, "which is basically my way of avoiding admitting how clumsy I am!" she tries to keep the tone light hearted, hoping Faye will drop this line of questioning and leave her be.

Faye only hums in response, but something about the look on her face makes her doubt whether she successfully fooled her. Donna makes her way to the coffee machine, fiddling with the buttons and clearing her throat to break the awkward silence.

"How are those case files I gave you from 'Blue Baker Cosmetics' coming along?" Faye questions casually.

Faye had given her some legal work to do, which at first came as a surprise, considering how the Special Master had made no effort to hide her disapproval at Donna's high position at the firm, with the absence of a law degree. Until it dawned on her that that was exactly why she had given it to her, to make a point that she was out of her depth here, and while Donna found the assignment a challenge, she had managed to work through it with the occasional piece of advice from Harvey or one of her colleagues. Taking the case files home almost every night to put in the extra hours.

Which is why they were in her purse that night. Stolen along with her other belongings.

She felt her breath hitch at the sudden realisation. Of all the files she could have lost, it had to be these ones, didn't it?

An excuse is rolling off her tongue before she has the chance to think it through, feeling the strain as Faye raised an eyebrow inquisitively at her lack of response, "Harvey brought them home for me so I could work on them while I was on leave, I forgot to bring them in this morning, but I can show you what I've got so far tomorrow –"

"No hurry," the blonde replied in faux kindness, "just get them to me by the end of the week." And with that she picked up her mug of coffee and left Donna alone in the kitchen.

She remains rooted to the spot for a few seconds, her head beginning to spin as desperation crawls beneath her skin. Her mind running away with itself with question after question, worry after worry. She knows she's in trouble now, both lies are right on her heels and catching up fast, and it's only her first day back. Her feet are carrying her towards the restroom before she can register it, somehow managing to put one foot in front of the other as her breath catches in her chest.

She should go to Harvey, this is exactly the kind of thing he was talking about, the type of situation he's so eager to help her navigate. But pride drives her in the opposite direction, swinging the bathroom door open, not bothering to check if it's empty.

Her free right hand grips the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white as she tries to suppress the urge to vomit, suddenly feeling a familiar sensation taking hold of her insides, reminding her of how she felt that night, when she'd returned to the office, hurt and helpless, but worst of all, alone.

Just as she couldn't find the energy to move from the office couch then, she now finds herself unable to ask for help, breathing through the anxiety with harsh inhales and shaky exhales, her brow creasing from the effort and her eyes screwed shut, her pulse deafening her to all other sounds.

Which is why she doesn't hear the approach of rapid footsteps, or notice the calling of her name. A hand wrapping around her wrist and tugging firmly, trying to get her attention, pull her back down to reality.

But all it does is send her spiralling further away.

A frightening flash of a dark alleyway, illuminated only by the lights from neighbouring streets - the pain in her arm as it's twisted behind her back, a harsh hand, cuffed around her wrist and driving her towards the far wall.

She lets out a yelp of shock, jerking her arm away before pushing back with all her might, her eyes flying open just in time to see Samantha stumble backwards, almost toppling over backwards and grabbing at the counter for support.

"Donna what the hell –" She all but yells in confusion before stopping dead in her tracks, the look on her friend's face, triggering something in her memory, and causing her expression to soften.

Her eyes are wide and darting around the room as though searching for something, or someone. As though she'd just been pulled from a night terror, her breathing still as shallow as it had been when Samantha had discovered her huddled over the sink. She's seen that look before, witnessed multiple outbursts of a similar nature, and suddenly it clicked with her.

She approaches the redhead slowly, a hand extended to her, "Hey, it's alright, just relax. I didn't mean to scare you like that." Her voice is level and she watches as her colleague's face drops, her lips parting in an apology.

"I'm so sorry, I – I don't know what happened I –"

"I think I do," replies Samantha, her eyes full of sympathy, taking Donna's hand carefully and giving it a squeeze, watching as she begins to calm down, "so why don't we go for a drink, and you can tell me the real reason you've been in hiding for days."

——————

"As much as I'd love to hear more about Harvey's morning beauty routine, I'd rather you stopped stalling and got to what we came here to discuss in the first place." The blonde states plainly, quirking an eyebrow in half amusement at Donna's attempts to side track their intended topic of discussion. They're already half way through their first glass of wine each, and while she allowed her friend to ramble at first, with the intention of helping her calm down slightly, now she was ready to get to the point.

"Samantha, I really appreciate your concern, and I'm sorry about that misunderstanding in the restroom, but there's really nothing to tell," she shrugs in a way that she thinks is nonchalant, but in reality, shows her hand, causing Samantha to almost smirk with amusement at the actress' lack of ability to deceive when it really mattered, "I'm just a bit sleep deprived, that's all."

"Because of the night terrors you've been having?" she remarks casually, as though it were common knowledge.

"Excuse me?" Donna nearly chokes on a sip of wine, caught off guard by the accurate assumption.

"Don't bullshit me Donna," she answers blankly, it's never been her way to take the soft approach to these things, and something tells her that it's exactly what her friend needs, "I've seen all this before, been through it myself, actually, so don't lie to me and tell me there isn't something more sinister going on here than you're letting on."

She's awestruck for a moment, her face dropping instantaneously at confrontation, moisture stinging in the corners of her eyes and threatening to spoil her composure. She casts her gaze down into the half empty wine glass, swirling the contents round and round, gulping harshly to try and relieve the tension in her suddenly dry throat.

Samantha watches her carefully, her reaction just as good as a confession, her lips press together with sympathy. A part of her had been hoping she was wrong, that her radar was off this time. She reaches for the other woman's hand, giving it a tight squeeze from across the table, and urging her to open up.

"Did someone hurt you? You can tell me." She whispers, the sentiment in her tone almost pushing Donna to the verge of a breakdown.

She only manages a nod in reply, scrunching up her nose to regain composure before lifting her head.

"Can you tell me what happened?" she asks, gentler in her approach now, in her experience, the admission is always the hardest part, once it's out, the rest comes naturally, so she decides to prompt her along softly now.

Donna finds herself pouring her heart out, explaining the incident to Samantha, everything she knows to be true about that night and the events leading up to it; the pressure she'd been under from Faye, her argument with Harvey, how she'd walked out into the night, not caring where she ended up. She goes through the checklist in her mind of what her injuries prove happened to her – although the memories are still lost to her – how she'd then woken up on the alleyway, fearing the worst, making her way back to the firm and lying there until Harvey and Louis finally found her.

She opens up about her unusual memory loss, confused when Samantha seems unsurprised by it at all. Explaining how it strikes her at unpredictable moments, when something triggers a sense of déjà vu in her, using what had happened in the restroom as an example.

"…and I just keep thinking," she rounds off her story with a sigh, "how none of this would have happened if I'd just stayed at the firm that night, or gone home with Harvey like he wanted to. Why did I have to pick a fight with him? Why didn't I stop and think, before walking out on my own, I wasn't even watching where I was going, I had no clue where I was – and just as it happened, I was about to call Harvey back – I never should have left in the first place, I brought this on myself." Samantha's lips part as she falls into a stunned silence, a retort always at the ready in her mind but seeing Donna like this, this woman that she's come to view as so put together, so sure of herself over the past year, it leaves her at a loss for words momentarily, letting the quiet settle around them like dust after a storm as her friend comes to the end of her harrowing rant.

She gives her hand another tight squeeze, never having released it over the course of her tale, before she begins the conversation again, "Donna Paulsen, are you really going to sit there in front of me, and victim blame yourself? Because you may have made some mistakes or wrong choices that evening, but you know just as well as I that this is not your fault."

Donna's strained expression softens at the other woman's words, the truth in what she's saying resonating with her, and lifting that lingering sense of guilt she'd been suffering with for days.

"You're right," she concedes, "I never thought about it that way."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," Samantha says with a tight smile, "If we can't pull each other up on our oversights then what exactly is this friendship even based on?" she jokes, eliciting a small chuckle from Donna.

"In all seriousness though," Samantha continues, "I've been in your position, I've known countless others who have been through something traumatic like this… and, you want my honest opinion?"

The redhead nods, almost certain she knows what's about to be said but needing to hear it from someone else.

"I think you're suffering from PTSD."

She watches as Donna's face crumples with acceptance of the fact, "I know – I mean, I've suspected it." She admits.

"But listen to me," the lawyer urges, "that does not mean that you're going to feel this way forever, everyone deals with trauma differently, everyone's body clock for these things is unique. But I know you're going to overcome this, and I'm here to help, whatever you need."

She gives a watery smile in return, "Thank you, Samantha, I mean it."

Before any more can be said, Donna's new phone buzzes, a text from Harvey appearing on the screen.

_You still out with Samantha? I'm just leaving the firm now, but I can meet you there? X_

She replies with the name of the bar, suddenly overcome with a longing to see him, to get home and curl up in bed by his side. It'd been a long and challenging day, and while it beat sitting at home wallowing in her misery, it didn't make it any less draining.

"Harvey's going to meet us here." She explains.

Samantha casts her eyes down to her watch, reading the time and almost getting a fright at the time, "Have we really been here for more than two hours?"

"Have we?" Donna asks, just as surprised at how quickly time had elapsed.

"I'd really love to stay longer Donna but I've got a mountain of work waiting for me back at the office." She apologises.

"Don't worry about it, Harvey should be here any minute," she assures her friend, "how about we pay the cheque and we all walk back to the firm together? I really just want to get home anyway." Donna admits, suddenly feeling extremely tired.

"Okay, sounds good," Samantha replies, gesturing to the waiter for the cheque, before glancing back at her friend, her face growing slightly pale and lined with tiredness, "You feeling alright?"

"I'm just really worn out all of a sudden," she says, absentmindedly rubbing a hand across her face and wiping away some of the concealer, already beginning to melt in the warmth of the crowded bar, "I'll be fine once I get home."

Samantha's eyes wander across Donna's face, her brows raised in pity and lips parted as she traced her gaze from blemish to blemish.

"What are you – shit – " she turns her face away, realising the cause of Samantha's sudden expression of sadness, "I didn't want anyone to see –"

"Hey," She insists, cutting her short, "It's just me, you can trust me."

"I know."

They don't get the chance to chat any further, as Donna catches sight of Harvey walking through the front door, waving over to him.

"Hi," he greets, smiling at Samantha as he moves to Donna's side, resting his hand on her shoulder, "You two finishing up?" he inquires, gesturing to their empty glasses and the cheque which sat paid on the table.

"Yes, Samantha has some work left to do, and I've had a long day, I'd like to get home." Donna informs him, placing her hand over his, he observes the same tired expression gracing her features as she looks up at him, her eyes slightly bloodshot.

"Everything okay?" he asks, his voice dropping lower.

"We've just been talking for a while – I told her, the truth."

"Well I didn't give her much choice," Samantha kids as she rises from her seat, Donna following suit, "I caught her having a bit of a meltdown in the lady's room, she owed me an explanation." Her tone light-hearted.

"A meltdown?" he questions, turning to his girlfriend concerned, she winces at the word, appreciating Samantha's attempt to lighten the situation but still sore from the events that took place, a little too soon for her to be joking about it, "I thought we agreed you'd come and find me if anything upset you?"

"I was going to – I wanted to," she corrects her lie, "but then I ran into Sam and we went out shortly after."

Harvey frowns, wishing he could have been the one to assist her, but choosing to let it go. Wrapping his arm around the small of her waist as they exit the restaurant.

"You're alright now?" he says, glancing over at Samantha, who was uncharacteristically quiet, perhaps trying to give them some privacy.

She nods and he decides to drop the subject, take all their minds off it, and steers the conversation back to a story about how he saw Louis filing his finger nails in the office that morning.

They follow Samantha back in the direction of the firm, only a few blocks away. Donna begins to drift from the conversation, noticing how the street looks so different in the dark than it had earlier that day when they'd taken a cab to the bar. The walls and buildings somehow taller under the night's sky. A stirring sense of familiarity that she couldn't place brewing in her head.

She glanced around at every shop window, trying to jog a memory, or searching for a coffee shop or restaurant which she might recognise, but nothing came to her.

They continued walking as her gaze travelled to her right, catching her reflection in the passing dull gleam of windows, darkened as the lights inside were shut off for the night. Wondering if she's looked this drained and defeated all day, not sure she actually wants to hear the answer.

Lost in thought, it takes a moment for her to notice the string of glass disappearing from view, the walls opening up onto a side street through a narrow opening that widens as you move further.

Her breath catches low in her throat as she stops dead in her tracks, the other pair continuing on, not noticing her abrupt halt.

Her mouth dries up, giving a harsh swallow in a poor attempt to relieve the feeling. Her eyes fixed on the scene in front of her. Unable to move, think or breathe.

"Donna? What is it?"

————

**A/N: hi everyone!! Sorry for the wait on this originally unplanned part 2, which has now become a three part story :) the plan I had for chpt2 turned out to be a bit too ambitious for just one chapter so I decided to add on another installment to do it justice.**

**Thank you all soooooo much for the kind reviews, I was so surprised to get such a warm reception to this story, you have no idea how close I came to not posting it at all!**

**Once again I need to thank Jess (@woahrafferty / takeyourside) for her help, encouragement and correction of my outrageous typos!! :)**

**Let me know what you think!! **


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